


Even Cuter: The Fanfic

by WolffyLuna



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: (and so is Isabela), Dress Up, F/F, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Merrill is thirsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 15:05:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14083572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolffyLuna/pseuds/WolffyLuna
Summary: "We’re going to a party.” Isabela sat down at the table, and plonked the sack on top of it. “Hawke invited us. Well, the people who invited Hawke invited us. Wanting to hobnob with the Champions companions, and all that,” said Isabela. “But, because it’s a Hightown shindig, we’re going to need some clothes.” Isabela threw the sack at Merrill.Isabela brings some ridiculous clothes to Merrill to get dressed up in. (Aka, the story behindthisart)





	Even Cuter: The Fanfic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChocoChipBiscuit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Even Cuter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13674180) by [WolffyLuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolffyLuna/pseuds/WolffyLuna). 



> This was requested by ChocoChipBiscuit, as her prize for guessing what one of my Chocobox treats was before the reveals. I hope you like it!

Something heavy and wooden fell with a crash behind Merrill. 

She turned away from the bubbling stove.

Isabela stood in her doorway, the door at her feet, with a sack slung over one shoulder. “Your hinges have gotten worse.”

“They just haven’t been the same after I had to repair them from last time.” _The first time you kicked in my door. And I still haven’t fixed the locks on the kitchen window--_

Isabela made a disappointed clicking noise. “And what if I was a mob with torches and pitchforks?”

“Well, I’m sure I would sort something out. Should I put some more soup on?” 

“No need, we’re going to a party.” Isabela sat down at the table, and plonked the sack on top of it. “Hawke invited us. Well, the people who invited Hawke invited us. Wanting to hobnob with the Champions companions, and all that.” 

Merrill chopped up more carrots and celery anyway. “Oh, that sounds exciting.” 

“Eh, it’s a Hightown shindig. Either nothing happens, or three affairs are found out at once and your involved in one of them.” 

“There’s a chance it could be exciting,” Merrill corrected herself. 

“But, because it’s a Hightown shindig, we’re going to need some clothes.” Isabela threw the sack at Merrill. 

Merrill turned around just in time to awkwardly catch it. 

“Heh, that’s better than the last time. You’re getting good, kitten.” 

Merrill opened it, and looked inside. “It’s all rather.... Garish.” She pulled out a tube of red silk. She held it out in front of herself, turned it one way then they other, but she couldn’t quite decipher it. “And translucent.” 

Isabela shrugged. “That’s the fashion.” She smirked, and Merrill couldn’t quite tell if it was the fashion that was funny, or if Isabela was spinning a tale. “Let me show you how it’s done.” Isabela stood up, and half stepped out of, half kicked off her boots, and reached into the sack. 

Merrill took the opportunity to throw the extra vegetables into the pot, still holding the sack in one hand. 

Isabela pulled out a mint green shirt with layered sleeves, and what was probably a skirt. It seemed a bit short for that, but there wasn’t anything else it was likely to be. Headband for an ogre? Artful scarf?

Isabela pulled the skirt over her tunic. It covered a bit more than the tunic by itself, but that was not saying much. 

After putting the skirt on over her clothes, Merrill assumed Isabela was trying to be modest while changing.

Isabela pulled her tunic over her head. 

Merrill span around, covering her eyes with a hand. She couldn’t be certain that she didn’t make an embarrassing squeaking noise. 

“Relax, kitten.” Merrill could hear the smile in Isabela’s voice. “I ain’t got nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“I’m not so sure--” So, she had seen Isabela less than dressed, treating a gut wound she’d got fighting spiders. So it was true on that level. And if her understanding of humans was right, they did share a broad anatomical plain. But. They did not share broad anatomical sizes. Especially not in areas traditionally covered by tunics, and especially not in areas that Merrill was trying hard to resist the temptation to peek at. 

“You really don’t have to worry about preserving my modesty. Or my honour. Don’t have enough of either to worry.” 

Merrill took the permission, and peeked through her fingers, just in time for Isabela to pull the shirt over her belly button. Merrill couldn’t be quite sure whether Isabela had timed it like that deliberately.

Not that she had to imagine much what the shirt was covering. She didn’t want to say for certain it was a ‘men’s’ shirt, she hadn’t quite figured out the intricacies of human clothing, but-- it definitely wasn’t designed for someone with any... assets, let alone some the size of Isabela’s. 

Isabela raised an eyebrow. “So. Your turn?” 

Merrill made a spinning motion with her free hand, as she reached into the bag. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll turn around. And I won’t peek either.” 

Merrill fished something out of the bag. It was a bright pink dress, with the skirt made out of layers and layers semi-transparent ruffles. Like the tail of a puffy pink chicken, Merrill thought. She slipped it over her head, over her clothes. Her leggings peeked out from under the skirt. The neckline was deep, and the top of her shirt showed through. It’d probably be wrong to go to Hightown with her old clothes showing-- She took off the green scarf she’d been wearing, and replaced it with the mysterious silk tube. “Er-- how do I look.” 

Isabela turned around, and looked at Merrill from her barefeet up. She covered her mouth with her hand. “That’s _perfect_. Hightown won’t know what hit them.” She paused for a second. “We just need headwear.” 

Merrill held out the sack, and Isabela fished around in it, her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth. She pulled out a black hat. A three pointed hat, made of rich velvet, with the feather of a huge white bird sticking out of the band. Even Merrill knew what it was, who wore it. It was a _pirate hat_. 

“I forgot that was in there.” Isabela put it on her head, and her hands on her hips. “Arr, me scallywag dogs!” She declared, pointing at the corner of the room. “A-hoist the mainsails, me hearties!” Even making fun of it, Isabela was impressive as a pirate captain. It suited her, even if it was just a costume and her crew was laundry basket.

“Did you ever wear really a hat like that as captain?” Merrill asked, looking up at Isabela --looking up at the hat. The _pirate hat_.

Isabela shook her head. “It’d blow off as soon as you left port, and you’d be left hatless and looking a fool.” She paused. “So, yeah, once.” 

“If you added a little strap around the chin--” 

“I’ll keep that in mind when I get my ship back. I’ll be the most fashionable captain on the Waking Sea.” She looked down at the sack. “There’s should be at least a couple other hats in there.” 

Merrill fished around until she felt something hat like, and pulled it out. It was circular, short brimmed. But for all of it’s less impressive shape, it went toe-to-toe with the pirate hat on noticeability. It was purple, with colourful silk flowers -pink and a different purple and white and burgundy -- sewn on the the band, climbing across the hat like a small but enthusiastic rosebush. She put it on, feeling distinctly overshadowed by it.

Isabela stepped forward, smiling. “I didn’t think you could look any cuter, kitten, but I was wrong.” 

Merrill looked at the floor, blushing. “ _Thank you_ ,” she muttered, in Elven, before correcting herself. “Thank you.” 

“Well, it’s true.” 

Merrill sniffed the air, and quickly turned round to the soup. “How quickly do we need to get to Hightown? The soup’s nearly done, and it’d be a such a shame to waste it.” 

“Well-- we’ve got a reasonably big window of arrival. Plenty of leeway.” 

“No one will be upset if we don’t arrive with Hawke?” 

“Hawke definitely won’t be upset.” 

“What about the nobles?” Merrill asked. 

“They won’t be upset either.The opposite in fact.” Isabela sniffed the air as well. “And the soup _would_ be a shame to waste.” 

Merrill took the pot off the stove. “You just sounded we were in a rush--” 

“--We’re in less of a rush than I said we were. A little. And maybe a little less invited, too.” Isabela sat down. “Just, picture this for me: the look on Hawke’s face if we turn up like this.” 

Merrill could picture a few different faces Hawke could make, depending on how not invited they were, and how off their dress was. “This isn’t the fashion? I wouldn’t really know.” 

“Certainly not Hightown fashion. I got them at the Rose,” Isabela admitted. 

“You stole the girls’ clothes?” Merrill pulled the scarf over her head. She really needed to return it, none of them had enough clothes as it was--

Isabela held up a hand to stop her. “I didn’t take them from the girls, and I didn’t steal them. It’s not stealing if they’re in the lost and found.” 

“Oh, that’s alright then.” Merrill put the scarf back on, started setting the bowls on the table.. 

“And anyway,” Isabela said, jumping back to the previous topic, “as much as Hawke’s face would be worthy of a portrait by the finest artist--” as Merrill leaned down to put a bowl in front of her, Isabela gently placed her finger on the end of Merrill’s nose, “--I don’t think Kirkwall can handle your adorableness.” 

“Can you handle my, um, adorableness?” 

“I’m willing to take the challenge.” 


End file.
